


Growing Pains

by Ninja_School_Dropout



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_School_Dropout/pseuds/Ninja_School_Dropout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz wants nothing more than a family, but Prowl isn't so sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A Black and white praxian mech paced back and forth outside a bedroom. His bonded, a gray praxian sat on a chair against the wall. He was slouched over, his helm resting in his servos. "What are we going to do?"

The Black and white praxian ignored his bonded as he continued pacing. His bonded stood up quickly. "Do you not care about what just happened, Klor?" He yelled.

'Klor', the Black and White praxian, paused. He slowly turned to his bonded, and gave him a glare. "I do care. We are high caste, if our youngling has a glitch, do you know how that will affect us? We'll be laughing stocks! We'll be out castes, Florn!"

Florn shook his helm, his yellow chevron gleaming in the light. "You care alright, for all the wrong things!"

The two froze as the bedroom door opened. A red and white medic stepped out. "His vocal processor fritzed out."

"He is alright though?" Florn stepped forward.

The medic nodded. "Yes, but I do have to speak with you both."

Klor quickly walked over to the medic. "What is it?"

"Your youngling… He does have a glitch."

Klor cursed as he stepped back and sat down in the chair Florn was sitting in a couple of moments earlier. Florn sighed. "How bad?"

The medic shook his helm. "Not bad. It's a vocal processor glitch. He won't be able to talk as much as I'm sure he'd like to." The medic smiled. "He is very talkative. His vocal processor basically overheats. It could be painful for the youngling, so I'd keep him from talking as much as you can."

Florn nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."

The medic nodded. "Sure."

"I'll show you out." Florn spared Klor one last glance before he led the medic through his large home.

Klor stood up as the two left, and let out one last curse before he stepped into his youngling's room. "Silverstreak."

"Sire!" The youngling's voice was fuzzy and full of static.

Klor sat down next to the youngling's berth. He sighed as the gray and red mech smiled up at him. His tiny cheveron scuffed from when he fell into stasis. "Did the doctor talk to you?"

"He did! He said tha-"

"Stop." Klor shook his helm. "No more talking. At all. None. Do you understand? You have to understand something, youngling. The life we live is all about honor, and nobility. You, you are a disgrace."

Silverstreak stared at his sire with wide optics. "Si-"

"Shut up." Klor hissed. "What did I tell you? No more. No more talking! If anybody else finds out you have a glitch, that is it for this family! No more, Silverstreak." Klor stood up, giving one last look towards the youngling who was now on the edge of crying. "No more, please." He turned on his heel, and quickly left the room.

* * *

Silverstreak sat in his room staring out the window. He had the perfect view of his family's courtyard. Some of the servant's younglings played there. He used to like playing with them too, but that was vorns ago. So long ago, he wasn't really sure he knew how to play with other younglings anymore. He'd probably disgrace his family even more.

Silverstreak looked away from the window, and stared at the floor. It was shiny and white. He could see his reflection. He frowned. He was a disgrace.

"Silverstreak?" Silverstreak slowly turned to the doorway. His carrier stood with a small tray of energon treats. "Do you want a snack?"

Silverstreak frowned and shook his helm. He wasn't really in the mood for snacks. His carrier frowned, and walked into the room. He sat the tray on Silverstreak's desk, and sat down on his berth. "When you were younger, you'd go out there, and play for joors. I'd worry that you'd go into stasis from exhaustion." He chuckled to himself.

Silverstreak looked away from his carrier.

"Silverstreak, things are changing. I don't know if you've noticed, though I doubt it. You never really leave your room anymore. Not since…" His carrier trailed off. "Since that, but things have really changed."

Silverstreak spared his creator a sideways glance. His carrier was staring out the window with a far of look. "We're neutral in all this, but Primus knows for how much longer. Even I know it won't last."

Silverstreak frowned. He had no idea what his carrier was talking about. He was making no sense.

"Your Sire says we'll be leaving Praxus soon. He wants to get out of here as soon as possible. I want you to understand that before we start packing up. I know it's sudden, but your Sire says we have to."

Leaving? Where would he stay? What would he do? Was he just going to be locked into another room? Would it really be so different than here?

* * *

Silverstreak laid in his berth, his carrier sitting on a chair next to him, reading him a story that he wasn't paying any attention to. His processor was still on leaving. "Silverstreak, are you listening?" His carrier asked, a small smile on his face.

Silverstreak shook his helm, earning a laugh from his carrier. "Tha-" His carrier was cut off by a huge siren. He quickly stood up, worry on his face. "Silverstreak, get up. Hurry!" He quickly started pulling Silverstreak out of the berth. "Go to the basement! I'll be right there!"

Silverstreak jumped as the floor beneath him started rumbling. His carrier ran the opposite direction of where he had instructed Silverstreak to go. Where was he going? Silverstreak stood split on which direction to go. Should he follow his Carrier, or- No, he should listen to his carrier. Go to the basement. Silverstreak gave one last look back at his carrier before he ran down the stairs, and towards the basement.

* * *

Prowl watched as his student Smokescreen directed the search and rescue. Praxus was gone. The Decepticons took it out in one wave of bombs. The slaggers would pay.

The rescue had been going on for several joors. So far, the Autobots had only been able to successfully locate and rescue five large groups of bots, and several smaller ones. That brought their total up to a little over 500. 500 bots in the five joors they had been searching. 500 bots in the city state that had once been over a million.

Prowl felt his engine rev at the thought of the few survivors they had. Smokescreen turned in his chair and frowned. "Maybe you should take a break. I can hear your growls from all the way over here."

Prowl sneered. "I am angry."

"You have every right to be, but remember what you told me, 'keep it in, and don't let it ruin your judgement'."

If it had been any other time, Prowl would have been proud of his pupil, but at this point in time, it only furthered his aggravation. "It has not clouded my judgment. It has only supported the fact that the Decepticons need to be pulverized."

Smokescreen whistled as he slowly turned back around in his chairs. "Praxians really get offended at any slagging of their city-state, huh?"

Prowl glared at the Praxian framed mech. "Slagging of Praxus would be saying it sucked. Destroying Praxus is called fragging with the wrong bots. You should be just as disgusted with this."

"I am disgusted, I just don't take it as a personal challenge. I grew up in Iacon after all." Smokescreen brought his servo to his audial as a transmission made it's way through the lines. "We need medics in the west central block 25."

Prowl gritted his denta. That was close to the crystal gardens.

Smokescreen frowned. "I don't care if there aren't any free medics! It's a youngling!"

Prowl's doorwings flew up in surprise. They had a few calls of younglings, but all had been declared deceased at the scene. Smokescreen sighed, and turned back to Prowl. "They're sending a team. I hope this ones okay. I don't think I can take another offline Sparkling or youngling today."

"I don't think anybody can." Prowl sighed.

* * *

"Can you hear me? Come on little mech!"

Silverstreak onlined his optics, and stared at the mech above him. He was red with blue optics. The two locked optics, and Silverstreak immediately looked away. He frowned as he caught sight of the destruction around him. He couldn't feel his back, or his legs. He glanced down, and his optics only widened further. His legs… They… They were gone!

"Calm down!" The mech grabbed Silverstreak's face, and angled it where the two were staring into each other's optics. "Calm. It'll be fine. It's not as bad as it looks. You'll be fine. Deep intakes."

Silverstreak tried to bring air into his system, but his intakes kept hitching. His legs were gone! His legs!

"Deep. Intakes." The mech took a deep intake of his own. "Come on little mech. You got this! Deep."

"Move!" Another mech slid down the rubble quickly. He had a gray chevron, and was white and red. He shoved the red mech out of the way. Silverstreak struggled to bring air into his ever heating system as the new mech ran a scan. "Slag!" He cursed, and stared down at Silverstreak. "I'm putting you into medical stasis, alright?"

Silverstreak barely had enough strength to nod before the mech went to work, and eventually everything went dark.

* * *

Prowl allowed his helm to fall into his servos. The rescue mission in Praxus was disappointing. The Autobots were able to rescue a grand total of 1200 praxian bots. 1200. Not even a fraction of what the city-state used to be.

Prowl sighed as his office door opened. The footsteps were light as they walked across the room, and paused in front of Prowl's desk. "Mech, ya gonna over work yaself."

"Jazz, I-"

"Naw. No excuses." Prowl's bond mate's voice was stern. Prowl lifted his helm out of his servos, and glanced up at Jazz. Jazz's face was dark. His visor dim. "Come on. Ya gotta take a break."

"I have to finish what I was doing."

Jazz sighed. "Fine. Ya finish, and then we go take a break."

Prowl turned back to the data pad on his desk. Jazz sat down on top of his desk, and watched as Prowl started writing again. "Ah went ta the med bay today."

"What for?" Prowl asked. Knowing full and well that his bond mate went to go see the patients from Praxus.

"The Praxians." Jazz readjusted himself. "Ya know there was only one youngling that we saved."

Prowl froze. He knew that. He knew that so well. There was also only three femmes. "I… did."

Jazz shook his helm. "Didn't mean ta make ya upset, Prowler. I'm sorry."

"It is fine, Jazz. Did you visit the youngling?"

"Yah, well, ah tried. He was still in stasis. Missing his legs and his door wings."

Prowl's doorwings fell against his back. He didn't know the injuries were so extensive. "Family?"

"That's the-"

Prowl's processor suddenly clicked on what Jazz was doing. "No."

"No? Ya don-"

"No, Jazz." Prowl shook his helm. "No."

"Ya don't even know what ah was-"

"You want to take the youngling in. No." Prowl quickly signed the data pad, and stood up. "No."

Jazz stood up. "He ain't got nobody else!"

"There is 1200 other praxians that will be willing to adopt him. No, Jazz."

"Why not?" Jazz crossed his arms over his chassis.

"We don't even know him, Jazz."

"We got plenty of time! Let's face it! Neither us are gonna get sparked! You don' wanna do it, and ah don't wanna do it! This is the solution!"

"You're a soldier, Jazz. Just like me. This war has already done all of this to that youngling, I highly doubt he wants to lose another set of creators. I doubt he even knows he lost one set of creators."

Jazz sighed, looking away from Prowl. "Ah just…"

"I know, Jazz. I know you want to help him out, but we can't. Not us. There are plenty of other places for him to go." Prowl sighed. "Let's go get some energon, and take a break, alright?"

Jazz shook his helm. "Ah ain't hungry."

"Jazz, please do not throw a fit."

"Ah ain't throwin a fit! Ah just… Forget it!" Jazz turned on his heel stomping out of Prowl's office. Prowl sighed, knowing full and well, Jazz was throwing a fit.

* * *

It had been a decaorn, and Jazz still hadn't dropped the subject of the youngling. He went to visit the mech every orn. Prowl tried to tell Jazz if he kept doing that, letting the youngling go would just be that much more difficult, but Jazz only ignored him.

Prowl sighed as he walked into the medical bay. This had been the first time he had actually gone to get Jazz out of the medical bay. Usually Jazz would come find him, and casually drop the subject of the youngling into the conversation they were having, but this time Ratchet had to call Prowl.

"Prowl."

"Ratchet." Prowl sighed.

"He's over there." Ratchet pointed to the corner of the medical bay. "The youngling was onlined this morning, and he's scaring the scrap out of the poor youngling."

Prowl nodded. "I will take care of it." He pinpointed Jazz quite easily, and made his way through the rows of berths.

Jazz's back was facing him. "And then ah told him, if ya want this energon goodie, ya'll have ta fight meh for it!" The small gray youngling had wide optics. His unpainted doorwings were drooping down.

Prowl stopped behind Jazz placing a servo on his shoulder. "It is time to go, Jazz." The mechling looked at Prowl with wide optics. Prowl noticed the stare the youngling gave him, but decided to ignore it. "You're scaring him."

"No, ah ain't! Am Ah?" The youngling turned his attention back to Jazz, and shook his helm. Jazz smiled. "See? This is Prowl!"

* * *

Prowl? Silverstreak frowned. He looked just like his sire. He even had the sour face. Jazz smiled, and stood up. "Prowler here is just shy! Like ya!"

Silverstreak looked away from Jazz. Where were his creators?

"Jazz." Prowl frowned before turning back to Silverstreak. "What is your designation, youngling?"

Shouldn't his creators have filled out a form before he was admitted to this medical center? Silverstreak frowned.

"Ah don't think he can talk, Prowl." Jazz whispered.

Prowl glanced down at Silverstreak. "Can you talk?"

Should he lie? No. Lying was disgraceful. Silverstreak nodded.

Prowl waited expectantly, but frowned. "Will you talk?"

Silverstreak shook his helm.

* * *

Jazz gave Prowl a worried look. Prowl simply nodded. "Alright then. Do you know what happened to you?"

The youngling sat silently for a moment. His optic ridges furrowed as he thought. Finally he shook his helm.

"Do you know where you are?"

The youngling shook his helm again.

Prowl nodded. "You are in Iacon."

The youngling's optics widened, and stared at Prowl in shock.

Jazz frowned. "Maybe we should go, Prowl."

Prowl glanced over to Jazz. "He has a right to know, Jazz." Prowl turned back to the youngling. "Praxus-"

"Prowl!" Jazz yelled.

Prowl raised his optic ridges at Jazz. ::You want the youngling?::

::Ya don't have to hurt him!::

::I am not hurting him, Jazz. You did not honestly think you could just take him, and him remain in the dark of what has happened. He has to understand what is going on.::

Jazz huffed. "Ah think it's time we left, Prowl."

Prowl sighed. "Jazz."

"No! Ya..." Jazz growled as he stomped off, leaving Prowl behind with the youngling.

Prowl glanced down at the youngling. The youngling frowned, and made a motion of writing. "You want a data pad?"

The youngling nodded. Prowl sighed as he pulled out a data pad and stylus. The youngling wrote for a couple of moments. _Is he mad?_

"Yes, at me."

_Praxus is gone? Was that what the rumbling was?_

Prowl frowned. "Yes."

The youngling sat in thought for a moment. His optics started to tear up. _My creators aren't coming back, are they?_

Prowl frowned. "We cannot be for certain either way. They may, or may not."

_You look like my sire._

Prowl frowned as he tried to understand why the youngling would bring that up. "Some say that a lot of Praxians look alike."

_I thought you were him for a moment._

"I am sorry." Prowl looked back at the exit of the Med bay. "I have to go. Jazz is probably very upset."

The youngling nodded, offering back the data pad, and stylus.

"Keep it." Prowl nodded as he walked away from the youngling.

* * *

By the time Prowl found Jazz, it was too late. Jazz had already prepared arguments for whatever Prowl had to say. No apology would be accepted. Jazz expected nothing less than the adoption of a poor youngling. "Jazz, no."

"Ya can recharge on the couch then!"

"That will not make me change my processor." Prowl sighed. "We are in no position to take care of a youngling!"

"You told him after ah left, didn't ya?"

"He came to the conclusion by himself. I told him that we are not sure yet."

"And ya just left him there? Ya told him, and now he's your responsibility!"

"Jazz, how did you even-"

"Ya break it ya buy it!"

"Jazz, you cannot apply that to a youngling. I did not break him. The cons did. Would you like me sent him away to Megatron then?"

"Ya wouldn't dare!" Jazz crossed his arms over his chassis.

"If I follow your logic, I have no other choice. Please, allow me to get a crate and we can just mail the youngling off!"

"Ya know that ain't what ah meant!"

Prowl sighed. "Jazz, we already decided not to adopt the youngling."

"Ah changed mah processor."

Prowl sat down, and dropped his helm into his servos. "Jazz, I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't, Jazz! Younglings are very illogical beings! I cannot do it!"

Jazz shook his helm. "Ya just don't care what happens to that youngling, do ya?" Jazz huffed. "He could be sent off ta Primus knows where, and ya would just let it happen!"

Prowl sighed. "Jazz, do you really want the youngling?"

"Ah do."

"This isn't like how you wanted that turbo puppy, is it? We can't just pawn the youngling off onto a femme who thinks it's cute."

"It ain't like that!" Jazz yelled.

Prowl sighed. "We have to make sure the youngling is orphaned before we do this. We have to be positive. One hundred percent."

Jazz's visor lit up. "Oh Prowler! Thank ya! Thank ya!" Jazz jumped onto Prowl's lap, and wrapped his arms around his mate. "I love ya."

"You are trying my patience is what you are doing."

"It's a form of tough love."

Prowl snorted. "Sure."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz threw himself onto the berth with a sigh. He had been trying for almost a decaorn to get the youngling's creator's designation, but so far, he had failed miserably. The small mech was proving to be a worthy opponent for Jazz.

"How is the youngling?"

Jazz only sighed again. "He's re-learning ta walk. Ratchet finally finished his legs, an' calibrated 'em. Poor mech's fallen on his face more than any other bot ah know."

Prowl nodded. "It will take him some time to re-learn his center of balance."

"It's almost impossible ta find the younglin's creators! We don't know his name, or his creators."

Prowl Shook his helm. "I had Ratchet put out a found poster around. If any creators are looking for a youngling, we'll find them."

"How long does he got?"

Prowl shrugged. "It's been two decaorns since he was located, so he has one more until he becomes officially orphaned. After that, he will be submitted as a ward of the Prime."

"Then we can put in ta adopt him?" Jazz smiled.

Prowl shook his helm. "No." He sighed. "The youngling will go through a series of questioning, and multiple psycho analysises."

Jazz frowned. "Multiple?"

"Second opinions. We have a good shot because of our connection to Prime, but there always a chance that another couple could come in, and want the youngling. If that happens, a case worker will come in, and decide on the best home for the youngling."

Jazz frowned. "Which would be another couple."

Prowl nodded. "I told you before. We are soldiers. Both of us are high ranking as well."

Jazz shook his helm. "We can work around that!"

Prowl sighed. "Jazz, I a-"

"I know!"

* * *

Silverstreak watched as his new friend, Jazz, paced nervously. It wasn't really like him. He was always super happy, and care free. That's what he liked about Jazz. Jazz made him smile.

"Sorry, ah must be makin' ya worry."

Silverstreak shook his helm.

Jazz shot him a smile. "Good. Did Ratch tell ya about the mech ya're gonna be meeting with?"

Silverstreak nodded again. Ratchet did tell him. He told him the mech was going to ask him questions. All he had to do was write the answers on the data pad.

Jazz smiled again. "Good! Prowl and ah were thinkin' 'bout lettin' ya stay with us."

Silverstreak frowned. He thought they were still looking for his creators. Jazz sent him a sad smile. "It's been three decaorns. We've done all we could ta find em, but…" Jazz looked away. "Ah'm sorry, li'l guy…"

Silverstreak felt his bottom lip component quiver. His Sire and Carrier weren't looking for him! He… Silverstreak grabbed the data pad, and started writing furiously.

_I didn't mean to! Whatever I did! I didn't mean to! Tell them to come back! Tell them I didn't meant to disgrace anybody!_

* * *

Jazz silently read the roughly written glyphs. He stared at the mechling for a moment before he stood up. "Ya didn' do nothin' wrong. More than likely they can't come find ya. They migh' be…" Jazz looked away. "Ah'm sorry. Ah jus…"

"What is going on here?" A green mech stared between Jazz and the, now crying, youngling.

"Ah just gave him some bad news. Sorry. Ah'll be back later, kay?" Jazz smiled at the youngling before slowly turning and leaving the case worker to his job.

* * *

"He specifically used the glyph for disgrace?" Prowl frowned.

Jazz nodded. "Yeah. What does that mean? Ah mean for Praxians."

Prowl thought for a moment. "High caste's in Praxus hold a great deal in honor, and perfection. Often younglings are subjected to the same high standards as adults are. He could possibly be a high caste's youngling." Prowl leaned back in his chair. "If that's the case, he probably thought his creators abandoned him."

Jazz growled. "Ya don't think they did, do ya?"

"No." Prowl shook his helm. "There were two surviving high caste couples in Praxus. Both of which I am familiar with. Neither have younglings."

Jazz nodded. "Oh."

Prowl sighed. "It is alright Jazz. If he is high caste, the case worker will feel more obliged to send the youngling to high caste family."

"Ah'm not high caste, Prowl!"

"No, but I am." Prowl smirked. "And if I have to flaunt it to get you the youngling, I suppose I'll just have to."

Jazz smiled. "Ya hate the caste system."

"Yes." Prowl nodded.

"Ya'd do that for me?"

Prowl thought for a moment. "Yes."

Jazz couldn't hold back the face splitting smile. "Thank ya, Prowl."

Prowl nodded. "You owe me though."

"Ah can give ya a night ya won't forget."

"Nice try, I don't forget any night with you." Prowl smirked.

Jazz frowned. "Ya getting increasingly smooth. Ya takin' lessons or somethin'?"

"I am not."

Jazz smiled. "I bet you're learning from somebody."

"Jazz." Prowl rolled his optics.

* * *

Prowl felt the stress build up as he filled out data pads. They were coming into his office faster than he could finish them. He'd probably have a late night again at this rate. Prowl sighed as a knock echoed through his office. It was probably more data pads. "Come in."

The door slid open, revealing a green mech. "Good orn." The mech smiled. "I am Stelt, the case worker for the Praxian mechling."

Prowl nodded holding his doorwings up higher than he would have normally. "You had no better luck in getting his designation either." He noted.

Stelt frowned. "No, I'm afraid not. Um, I came to ask you a few questions. Me and a colleague are questioning potential surrogates for the youngling."

"I was unaware there were any other couples interested."

"Just one. They aren't Praxian, which is a concern for us. We want the youngling to grow up in a home culturally similar to the one he is used to, for his own good."

Prowl nodded. "It would be awful if we were to add cultural shock to the list of tragedies that has occurred to the youngling."

"Your bonded is not Praxian, do you think that will impact the youngling?"

"Jazz? Jazz may not be of Praxian frame, but most of his childhood he was raised in Praxus."

"Are you sure of this?" Stelt questioned.

"I've met his creators." Prowl smiled. "I do have a concern for the youngling, one that I am not sure you know of."

Stelt frowned. "I see, please speak up."

Prowl frowned at the offended tone of the mech. "I did not mean to offend."

"Potential surrogate creators always think they can do our job better than us!"

"I was mearly going to inform you that the youngling is of high caste. He expressed to my bonded through a data pad that he thought his creators left him because he disgraced them."

"Oh." Stelt sighed. "That makes a difference then. I apologize."

Prowl nodded. "Do not worry about it."

Stelt frowned. "You and your bonded are great candidates, but we are a little concerned about your careers."

"We were prepared for these worries. My bonded and I have discussed this."

Stelt nodded. "You are both soldiers. You head of tactical command, and your bonded is…" Stelt stared at his data pad for a moment. "A janitor? That's no-"

Prowl rolled his optics. "He is head of Special operations. I apologize for him… vandalizing your data pad."

Stelt sighed. "Whatever. So, which of these applications is the official one. I got two."

Prowl frowned. "Two? Are they copies?"

Stelt shook his helm. "No, one was submitted a decaorn and a half ago, and the other one we just received a couple of orns ago."

"May I see them?" Stelt passed over two data pads. Prowl looked over both with a frown. He shook his helm. Jazz must have submitted one before he had agreed to adopt the youngling. "This one is the official one. I apologize."

Stelt frowned. "I see. May I ask why there are two?"

"Jazz." Prowl answered simply.

Stelt only continued frowning. The reply he got had not been very informative. "Where is Jazz. I would like to speak with him."

Prowl frowned. "I wouldn't bother checking his office. He is most likely in the rec room, or the medical bay."

"He is a black and white mech with a red stripe?"

Prowl nodded. "He has a blue visor."

"I may have ran into him earlier. Thank you for your time, Prowl." Stelt nodded before he turned and left Prowl's office.

Prowl let his doorwings drop to an appropriate height. He sighed before he shook his helm. Jazz is a force not to be reckoned with. Prowl didn't have a chance from the moment Jazz brought up the youngling.

* * *

Jazz snorted as Blaster, his best bud, slammed his servo in the middle of the table. "All in!"

Smokescreen, who had put together this little gambling session raised an optic ridge. "Oh my, what shall I do?" He rolled his optics unenthusiastically before smirking. "Matched."

Blaster frowned. "Pit."

"Fold!" Jazz yelled out along with a couple of other mechs.

"Call." Smokescreen laughed as Blaster showed his cards. Nothing. Blaster had nothing.

Jazz snorted. "Dude, ya gotta have something if ya're gonna yell all in!"

Blaster groaned. "I thought I did have something!"

"What was that?"

"Bluffing abilities."

The group only started laughing harder. Blaster was the worst at bluffing. The mech couldn't lie to save his life.

"Excuse me."

The mechs at the table turned to stare at the green mech. The mech immediately felt the pressure. "Uh, I am stelt. I uh need to speak with Jazz."

Jazz frowned. "This about the younglin' thing earlier, cause-"

"It is about the youngling, but not earlier."

Jazz smirked as he stood up, waving at the mechs. "Ah'll be back. Maybe." Blaster snorted as Jazz and Stelt walked out of the rec room. "How 'bout we go ta mah office ta speak."

"That would be preferable."

"So, there any other couples lookin' ta adopt the younglin'?"

"One."

Jazz frowned. "They lookin' any better than us?"

Stelt frowned. "I am not allowed to say."

Jazz smiled. "Ah understand! Ah'm just gonna put it out there that nobot, NO bot is going to be betta' than me an' Prowl at takin care of tha' younglin'."

"I'm sure that's the case." Stelt answered as the two reached the office.

Jazz quickly typed in the security code, and the doors opened. Lights switched on revealing a neat and tidy office. Jazz walked in, sat behind the desk, and propped up his pedes. "So, what can ah do for ya?"

"I wanted to know about the inner working of your relationship with Prowl. He seems very… Upper caste, compared to you."

Jazz frowned. "Prowler and ah are bonded."

"Usually Praxian high castes do not bond out of their caste. I am simply wondering why Prowl did."

"This doesn't seem to have anythin' ta do with the younglin'."

"This has everything to do with the youngling. You are head of special ops, did you Blackmail Prowl into bonding with you?"

"Wha?"

"Did you, Jazz, blackmail Prowl into bonding with you?"

"No! Of course ah didn't." Jazz brought his pedes down and stood up.

Stelt gave Jazz a weary glance before he pulled out a data pad, and started writing. "I will be asking around about you two. Prowl and you are the only bots that are completely qualified to adopt the youngling, but I do not want to put him with you if I find out that the two of you are not in a completely functional relationship. You will see me around, Jazz." Stelt turned on his heel before walking out of the room.

Jazz gave the mech a glare as threw himself back down on his chair. "Glitch."

* * *

Prowl frowned as he received a communication ping requesting a video chat. It was from Jazz's office. Prowl accepted and a holographic image of a frowning Jazz appeared in front of him. "Ah hate that Stelt mech!"

Prowl sighed. "What now?"

"He said ah blackmailed ya into bonding with me! He says we won't be able ta adopt the youngling if he finds out we don' have a functionin' relationship!"

"That is a false accusation, Jazz. We have a completely functional relationship. There is nothing to worry about."

"He's gonna go askin' 'round 'bout us!"

"Let him."

"Ah don't want him askin' 'round where he ain't welcome." Jazz crossed his servos.

Prowl sighed. "Jazz, please calm down. This is part of the process."

Jazz sighed as he uncrossed his servos. "Prowler, Ya didn't bond with meh cause ya felt ya had ta, did ya?"

Prowl frowned. "I didn't HAVE to do anything, Jazz."

"But-"

"It is true that you pressured me into it, but if you hadn't of put the pressure on, I believe we would still dancing around the subject, and having those awkward dates. I was forced into nothing."

Jazz let a smile come across his face. "I love ya, Prowl."

Prowl went silent. Jazz started laughing. "Come on, Prowl! Ya can do it."

Prowl cleared his vents. "Iloveyou,too."

Jazz only started laughing harder. "Ya're so easy ta embarrass. I'll see ya in our quarter this evening, Prowler."

"You will not."

"Wha?"

"I have to finish these data pads by tonight. This whole youngling thing has me behind on all my work. I apologize."

"Nah, it's fine. Ah'll come to you for refuel later on. Don't work too hard."

"Thank you, Jazz."

* * *

Optimus sighed as his Security Director continued ranting. "Why should I give him clearance to watch Jazz and Prowl! He even wants access to mics! NO! What if he is a con? What if he-"

Optimus held up a servo, and Red Alert immediately stopped talking. "Red, I'll give you a compromise. You can give him a delayed feed, and censor out anything that is _directly_ a security threat."

Red Alert huffed. "Fine."

Optimus released a sigh. "And Red Alert, Please begin the feed immediately."

Red Alert groaned. "Augh!"

Optimus smiled as Red Alert stomped out of the room.

* * *

Prowl stood up and stretched his door wings. With a sigh he grabbed the data pad he had just finished, and walked over to a filing cabinet. He opened the cabinet, found the place he needed, and filed the data pad away.

He jumped at a knock, and sighed at his own ridiculousness. "Come in."

Jazz slowly walked into the room, balancing two cubes of energon on his helm. "Ah'm comin'! Slowly, but surely!"

Prowl felt a smirk cross his mouthplates. "Did you walk all the way here with those on your helm?"

"Ah'm not there yet!"

Prowl smiled as Jazz walked the rest of the way to Prowl. He picked a cube off his helm, and passed it over. "Now, ah walked all the way here with these on mah helm."

Prowl accepted the cube. "Have you seen the youngling since earlier today?" He walked over to his desk, and sat down.

Jazz nodded. "Yeah, he seems to be doin' fine, but ah'm not a younglin' psychologist or anythin'." Jazz sighed. "Ah was wonderin', why doesn't he talk? He said he could, but he just doesn't." Jazz cracked open his cube of energon, and took a sip. He pulled a chair up to the desk, and sat down.

Prowl shrugged. "I talked to Ratchet about that. He said that it could be because of shock from the incident." Prowl grabbed a data pad, and slowly started filling it out.

"Ya ain't gonna refuel?"

Prowl glanced up. "I was just going to finish ano-"

Jazz snatched the data pad away from Prowl. "No working at the refuel table, Sweetspark."

"Jazz, this is my desk, no-"

"Is it a table?"

"Well, technically speaking it is a table."

"Am ah refueling at it?"

Prowl frowned at Jazz. He was using logic against him, well fine. Prowl stood up, and grabbed the back of Jazz's chair.

"What ya doin', mech?"

Prowl pulled the chair away from his desk, and into the middle of the office. He calmly walked back to his desk, and sat down. "You are not currently refueling at my desk."

Jazz stared at Prowl with a blank expression. "I stand corrected. That is not a refueling table."

Prowl smiled. "I will refuel was soon as I sign this data pad."

Jazz huffed. "Fine." He stood up, and pulled his chair back in front of Prowl's desk. "Who's that data pad for?"

"You."

"Me? Ah didn't submit anythin'."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "It is a tactical plan for your division's next operation. I looked over it earlier, and had to do some more reseach before I could sign it off."

Jazz nodded. "Oh."

"You have been keeping with your work as well?"

"Yeah. Ah aint got as much as ya do, but I'm pretty good at getting slag done."

Prowl nodded. "I am aware." He put the data pad down, and reached for his cube. He cracked the cube open, and sighed. "I am going to be here all night."

Jazz smiled. "Ah'm sorry. That's mah fault, huh?"

"No." Prowl shook his helm. "It is not. My division has been busy working on defensive tactics to prevent another Praxus occurring."

Jazz frowned. "Ah see." Jazz sighed. "How long ya think ya will be busy like dis?"

"A couple of orns. A lot of these data pads are just witness statements from Praxus. After I file through these, and finish up a couple of potential tactical senarios, I will be back on my regular schedule."

* * *

" _A couple of orns. A lot of these - just - statements from -. After I - these, and - of potential -, I will be back on -."_

Stelt frowned as half the audio was being cut from the delayed feed. He glaced over to the gray and red mech that stared at him cautiously. "I doubt half of what they are saying is classified information."

"How would you know?" The mech, Red Alert, challenged.

Stelt sighed. Perhaps this wasn't the best idea. "Are you just so paranoid that yo-"

"Out!" Red Alert yelled. "How disrespectful! Get out! Out!" Red Alert grabbed stelt's chair, and pushed him out into the hall. "Stay out!"

Stelt stared at the wall in front of him with wide optics. What just happened?

* * *

Prowl smirked at the comm. he had received. "Red has effectively kicked the case worker out of the security room."

Jazz frowned. "He was in the security room?"

Prowl frowned. "You didn't know? He had gotten permission from Prime to watch our interactions." Prowl gave Jazz a confused glance. "Isn't that why you wanted to refuel with me?"

Jazz's mouth plates formed a thin line. "Ya think ah wanted ta refuel wit ya because of a stupid mech?"

"I thought the plan was-"

"Plan? Prowler! Ah just wanted ta refuel with ya!"

Prowl frowned. "Oh, I see. Well, any matter, we can rest assured that the case worker isn't watching and listening now."

Jazz sighed. "Way ta ruin the mood, Prowler."

"What mood?"

"Ah thought we were just havin' a nice dinner!"

"It was a nice dinner."

"Ta get rid of da case worker!"

"That didn't make the dinner any less nice. In fact, I thought it made the dinner that much nicer."

Jazz shook his helm as he grabbed his and Prowl's energon cubes. "Ah'm leaving!"

"Jazz, where-"

"Ah'm gonna have energon with da younglin'!"

Prowl sighed as Jazz stomped out of the room. He leaned back with grunt. "Why don't you bond with the youngling then?"

"AH HEARD THAT!"

Prowl rolled his optics as Jazz's muffled voice made it's way through the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Stelt stood in front of the smiling Prime. "I did warn you."

"You did."

Optimus stood up, and walked over to the mech. He placed a servo on his shoulder and chuckled. "If it means anything to you, Prowl and Jazz were practically made for each other. Yes, they argue, and have their differences, but they never have them for long. Jazz didn't force Prowl to be with him, and Prowl didn't force Jazz."

Stelt glanced over his shoulder at the Prime. "It is not that I don't believe those words, it is that I don't think my boss will."

"Then I suggest you try not to push Prowl too much. Between him and Jazz. I believe you should be more worried about him."

Stelt frowned. "Why is that?"

"Well, Jazz may be able to corner you in an alley and beat the slag out of you, but Prowl; Prowl can get somebody else to beat the slag out of you, and then practically make your life a living pit." Optimus walked over to his desk, and sat down. "I've seen it before. It's one of the reasons I chose Prowl for the position of second in command."

"I wasn't aware he was second in command." Stelt frowned.

"He isn't, not yet, but I'm sure my persistent badgering will make him accept the position. After all he's the one who gave me the advice." Optimus smiled.

Stelt frowned. "Allow me to ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

"Do you believe a youngling put in their care would be in any danger at all?"

Optimus leaned back in his chair. "I believe at this time, if you put that youngling with any family at all, he'd be in danger. There _is_ a war going on after all. I will say this, though, If you allow that youngling to go with Jazz, and Prowl, he will probably be the most loved and happiest youngling you had ever seen."

"That is a strong statement." Stelt frowned. "Alright. I will pass this information onto my boss, and allow him to look over the data we have collected from the youngling. Thank you for your time, Prime." Stelt bowed before he raised back up, and walked out of the office.

* * *

Prowl stretched as he glanced around his office. Everything was in order. He finished the data pads he had to do, and had written up a tactical plan to show at the tactical meeting the next day. All his data pads had been filed away, and there was only one unread message in his inbox. The same one he got every evening at this time. A message from Optimus Prime.

Prowl shook his helm, and deleted the message. He sighed as he stood up from his desk, and walked out of his office, flipping off the lights as he left. He sent a nod to few mechs he passed on his way to his and Jazz's quarters.

Prowl slowly punched in the code for his quarters, and as soon as the door opened, he trudged through. He threw himself onto his favorite chair, and sighed as leaned back his helm.

"Prowler, ya in there?"

Prowl frowned as Jazz came around the corner from their room. Usually the mech was already in recharge when he got back this late. "Yes, Jazz."

Jazz gave Prowl a small smile. "Sorry 'bout earlier." He leaned up against their room's door way.

Prowl shrugged. "It is fine."

"Ah know ya were just tryin' ta get us custody of the younglin'."

Prowl frowned. Why was Jazz apologizing? No. What did he want? Prowl gave Jazz a suspicious look. "What?"

"What do ya mean, what?" Jazz frowned, slowly moving in front of the doorway.

"What do you want?"

"Ah don't want anything." Jazz pouted as his pedes firmly planted themselves in place.

Prowl frowned. "Better question. What do you have?"

Jazz frowned. "Ah don't know what ya're talking about."

Prowl stood up, and quickly walked over to the doorway, only for Jazz to block him. "Ah ain't got nothin'!"

"Jazz, what are you hiding?"

"Ah'm not!"

"You're not what?" Prowl stared at Jazz with narrowed optics.

Jazz frowned, and looked away. "The youngling didn't like the med bay."

"Jazz!" Prowl groaned. "The medical bay is not there to be liked! It is there for bots to get medical attention that they _need_."

"He don't need any!"

"Jazz, we have to take him back! This is kidnapping!"

Jazz blocked the doorway. "Ya can't take him back! What if the bots come and take him away, and put him some family that does nothin' but bully 'im?"

"Jazz, that will not happen." Prowl pushed Jazz out of the way and sighed as he spotted the gray youngling recharging on his and Jazz's berth.

"Prowl, no!"

Prowl ignored his bond mate, and gave the youngling a gentle shake. The youngling slowly sat up, and rubbed his optics. "I apologize for waking you, but you have to go back to the medical bay."

"Prowl!" Jazz whined.

The youngling nodded, and allowed Prowl to pick him up. Prowl turned to Jazz. "This was so irresponsible of you. If that case worker finds out what you did, we could lose this, Jazz." Prowl shook his helm, and walked out of the room with the youngling.

* * *

"I apologize for what Jazz did." Prowl grunted as he rubbed his helm, where a nice sized dent was visible.

Ratchet, the grumpy medic, was glaring at him with a wrench clutched in his servo. "I don't care how apologetic you are! You need to control that slagging mate of yours!"

"Ratchet, that is easier said than done."

"Do me a favor, and try." Ratchet glared. "We thought he ran off! He finished his physical therapy today, and is decent at walking now."

Prowl nodded. "I am sorry. I-" Prowl froze as he felt a scan run over him. "Ratchet!"

Ratchet opened a panel on his arm, and examined the data he received. "You're low on energon, again. Did you refuel today?"

"I tried."

"What do you mean?"

Prowl sighed. "Jazz and I had mid orn refuel, before I could refuel he got upset, and left. He took all the energon with him."

"And what are you too lazy to go get your own slagging energon!"

"I was busy."

Ratchet glared at him. "Berth."

Prowl frowned as Ratchet pointed to the berth next to the youngling's. "Excuse me?"

"Berth, now."

"Ratchet, I have to go talk to Ja-" Prowl grunted as Ratchet punched him in the gut, and pushed him onto the berth.

"Good, now relax." Ratchet smiled, and pushed Prowl down onto his back. He then reached over and magnetized the berth.

"What are you doing?" Prowl groaned.

Ratchet hummed as he walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a needle, tube and an energon drip. "Energon drip. If you aren't going to refuel properly, this is your alternate. I Figure you'll be done by mid orn tomorrow."

Prowl frowned as Ratchet stabbed the needle into his arm. "Ratchet!"

"Relax. Rest. I'll be back in the morning." Ratchet smiled as he finished setting up the drip, and then quickly walked out of the medical bay. After Ratchet left, the lights went out.

Prowl glanced over to the youngling who sat with wide optics. Prowl sighed. "Ratchet does all of that with love. I think."

The youngling nodded, grabbing his data pad. He quickly wrote before showing Prowl. _Did you disgrace him?_

"No. I offended him." Prowl sighed. "You are high caste?"

The youngling nodded.

"What are your creators names?"

The youngling frowned. _I'm sorry._

"You don't want to tell me? That is fine. I understand."

The youngling quickly shook his helm before turning back to his data pads. _I don't know how to write their names!_

"If you would just tell me, it would be easier."

_NO! If I talk, I'll disgrace them!_

Prowl frowned as he looked away from the youngling. "You… I see." Prowl sighed. "I used to think the same thing as you." He turned back to the youngling. "My creators told me that I couldn't go out or be seen because I would disgrace them as well."

_Why?_

Prowl sighed. "I have a glitch. If something is illogical my processor cannot follow it."

The youngling frowned. _Oh, I'm sorry._

Prowl shook his helm. "It is not your fault, or anybody elses. The only good thing that came from being a Praxian high caste was meeting Jazz. His sire was my creators body guard." Prowl frowned and shook his helm. "I am off topic. I apologize. Whatever is wrong with you, whatever your creators told you about talking, forget it. You are not a disgrace, and you certainly aren't something to hide."

The youngling frowned as he stared at the ground below his berth. "D..o you…thi..nk.. so?" The youngling's voice was full of static, and it seemed slightly painful for the mech to talk.

Prowl smiled. "I do not think, I only know."

The mechling's optics lit up. "Klor… and Fl..orn." He gave Prowl a shy smile. "M..y…cre…ators."

Prowl nodded. "I see, so you are Silverstreak."

"I…want…to be…Blue."

"Blue? Why? What is wrong with your old name?"

"Hur…ts"

Prowl frowned. "I do not have the power to change your designation. Not yet."

"Ye..t?"

"Jazz and I have been trying to get custody of you. That way you can live with us, and we could take care of you."

"Li..ke my… creators?"

"We would be your surrogates. Your substitute creators. We will not be replacing, just picking up where your old ones left off."

Silverstreak frowned. "I… li..ke that id..ea."

Prowl smiled. "Then Jazz and I will continue trying."

"Jazz… is mad?"

"At me, yes. It is his own fault though. He shouldn't have taken you from here." Prowl sighed. "Get some recharge. I'm sure Ratchet has already told Jazz I am in here for a while. I suppose I'll be keeping you company."

Silverstreak smiled. "I don't… li..ke… be..ing… alone… at night."

Prowl nodded. "I will remember that. Good recharge, Silverstreak."

"Good re…charge… Prowl."

Prowl smiled softly as he slowly drifted off into recharge.

* * *

Jazz onlined his optics and frowned. Prowl never came back to the berth last night. He must of have upset him pretty badly. Jazz swung his legs over the berth, and slowly got up. He walked into the living room and frowned. Prowl wasn't on the couch either. Jazz quickly walked over to the personal wash racks in their quarters. Empty.

"Prowler, ya here?" Jazz frowned when he got no reply. He quickly opened a comm. link. ::Prowler?::

* * *

Ratchet grunted as he left his quarters connected to the medical bay. He sighed when he reached into a cabinet and pulled out two cubes of energon. "Good morning, Ratchet!"

Ratchet grunted at the red and white masked mech. "Stuff it, First Aid."

"Yes, sir…"

Ratchet walked passed him, and into the patients' section of the medical bay. Most of the original patients from Praxus had been discharged, and only a few other bots were in berths. Ratchet walked passed a mech sitting on the berth with his arm laying next to him. "Ratch, you wanna fix this?"

"No." Ratchet deadpanned as he continued walking. He walked to the other side of the huge room, and stopped in front of a certain youngling's berth. He shook the youngling and waited patiently for him to sit up.

The youngling stretched his doorwings and arms before looking over to Ratchet. "Here, energon." Ratchet passed him the cube before walking over to the berth next to him. He ran a scan over Prowl and nodded. "Seventy percent. That's better than the twenty it was at last night." He turned back to the youngling, and ran quick scan over him. "How are you feeling?"

"Bet…ter."

Ratchet jumped at the sound of the static filled voice. "You talk?"

"Pro…wl… told me… I can… if I…want…to."

Ratchet frowned. "I told you that when you first woke up."

"He…said..it..nic..er."

Ratchet shook his helm. "Bratling." Ratchet turned back to Prowl. "I thought Jazz would have been here by now."

"Not…know."

Ratchet frowned. "That would explain it." ::Ratchet to Jazz::

::Not now! Ah can't find Prowler!::

::Fine, when you're done looking for Prowl, come pick up your bond mate.::

::Whatevah, Ratchet! Ah'm busy! Jazz out::

Ratchet snorted as the comm. was cut off. "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots."

It only took Jazz ten breems to catch on to what Ratchet had said. It took another five for him to reach the medical bay. By the time he reached Prowl's berth, he was huffing and puffing air through his vents, trying to cool his frame. "Ah came as soon as ah got ya drift! Is he okay? Why's he offline?"

Ratchet glared at Jazz and smacked him. "Shut up. He came in last night bringing back the youngling you took, and I ran a scan on him, he was only twenty percent energy levels, so I hooked him up to an energon drip. He's recharging, by the way."

Jazz released a sigh. "Ah almost had a spark attack!"

"Does he usually recharge this much?" Ratchet frowned.

Jazz snorted. "The mech would recharge all orn if ya let him." Jazz smirked and bent down, placing a gentle kiss on Prowl's helm. "Get up."

Prowl shifted a little, and swatted Jazz away. Jazz only smiled. "Ya're bein' watched."

Prowl shot up and glanced around. Ratchet stood with a smirk, and Jazz waved and pointed to other side of the berth. Prowl turned his helm smiled. "Good morning, Silverstreak."

Silverstreak's optics lit up. "Good…mor…ning, Prowl."

Jazz's optics lit up. "He can talk! Ratch, he can talk!" Jazz began jumping up and down, cheering.

Ratchet glared, and slammed a wrench into Jazz's helm. "Shut up! This the medical bay, not the rec room!"

"But, he talks!"

"Excuse us." Jazz frowned and turned around. Two mechs stood together with a data pad. A yellow mech with red accents, and a Bright Blue mech. The Blue mech held out the data pad. "We were told to give this to Ratchet."

Ratchet stepped forward, and accepted the data pad. He turned it on, and looked over the contents. "A visitation rights form? I was unaware anybody had been declined visitation rights?"

Prowl looked over to Jazz with a frown. Jazz looked away. Prowl sighed. "You are the other couple wishing to adopt Silverstreak?"

The yellow mech glanced up with a smile. "Yes. We didn't know he told anybody his name."

"He first spo-"

"Prowl." Jazz interrupted.

Prowl looked over to Jazz. "You have work to do today, don't you, Jazz?"

"Prowl, I-"

"I need your data pads for the ops mission plans by mid orn. Please go prepare them."

Jazz gave Prowl a look that said, 'If I was turbo puppy, I would probably have just been punted to the moon.' He looked away from Prowl before he slowly walked off. Ratchet snorted.

The new couple gave Prowl a perplexed look, but Prowl only ignored it. "Ratchet, can you get this drip out of me?"

"No."

Prowl frowned before he pulled the needle out himself. "It is fine. I got it myself." Prowl stood up, and reached a servo out to the other mechs. "I am Prowl."

The blue mech gripped Prowl's servo, and gave it curt shake. "Turbo." He gestured to the yellow mech. "This is my bond Glowfly."

Prowl nodded to Glowfly. "You can just call me Glow."

Prowl nodded again, turning behind him to the small youngling. "This is Silverstreak. I apologize for any inconvenience you ran into while trying to visit him."

Silverstreak glanced at the two mechs with wide optics, his unpainted doorwings drooped low. Prowl frowned, and walked up behind him, massaging between his doorwings. "Silverstreak, this is the other couple wishing to take you in."

"Sur..o..gate?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes."

Silverstreak slowly calmed down, and looked up at the couple. "Hi."

Glowfly smiled. "Hello, Silverstreak."

Prowl smiled. "He just began talking last night. Please be patient with his speech. I will be going now." Prowl began walking away.

"Wait!" A black servo grabbed Prowl's arm, holding him back.

Prowl turned to Turbo with a frown. "May I help you?"

"You are part of the other couple wanting to adopt Silverstreak, right?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes."

"We've been in this situation before, and usually the other couples are pretty insistent on not letting us see the youngling or tell us anything about them. Uh, thank you for giving us this opportunity."

Prowl frowned. "My bonded is the one who has not been letting you visit the youngling. I apologize for his behavior. I will be taking my leave now."

Turbo nodded. "Uh, yeah."

Prowl quickly turned and walked away, stopping in front of Ratchet. "I will go get some energon as soon as I leave here."

"Good." Ratchet waved him off.

* * *

Prowl held two cubes of energon in his servos, and quickly punched in the code for Jazz's office. The door opened, and he stepped in. "What?" Jazz grunted, tapping away on a data pad.

Prowl walked up to his desk, and slid a cube to him. "I wish to have energon with you."

"Ya think ah can just be available whenever ya want?"

"Yes, considering you are playing a game on your data pad."

Jazz glanced over to Prowl, and threw the data pad down. "What were ya doin' in there? Just giving them information on Silverstreak!"

"Jazz, they deserved to know what we knew. They are potential creators for the youngling as well. If they are chosen over us, and Silverstreak goes into their home without so much as talking to them before, how do you think he would feel?"

"Ya just don't want a youngling! This is what this is all about!"

"Jazz-"

"Get out! Go!" Jazz yelled. "Ah don't want ta look at ya!"

Prowl sighed, gripping his energon cube. "Alright. I will talk to you later."

Prowl heard Jazz huff as he left, and the office door shut behind him. He shook his helm, and looked down at the energon cube gripped in his servo. With a sigh Prowl quickly walked down the hall. He had a meeting to prepare for.

* * *

Glow smiled as he sat beside Silverstreak's berth. "You'll get along great with our other youngling."

Silverstreak glanced up at the yellow mech. "Oth…er?"

Turbo nodded. "Yes. A femme. Very…adventurous."

"She's a troublemaker." Glow glanced up at Turbo. "Don't make it sound like she's just the perfect little youngling." He smiled.

Turbo shrugged. "I was trying to be polite about it."

Silverstreak glanced down. The two had been there for a while, and they were nice. Really nice. They were friendly, and kind, and … Silverstreak didn't like them. They were too nice. They were too polite. He liked it when Jazz picked on him, and made fun of him. Sometimes he wanted to pick back. Now that Prowl told him it was okay to talk, he could.

Glowfly looked over at Turbo with a frown before he stood up. "We better go." He smiled down at Silverstreak. "You know, I'm pretty sure if you told your case worker that you'd rather stay with Prowl and his bond, he'd listen to you."

Silverstreak looked up at the mech with wide optics. "Wh…at?"

"You really like them, right? Your whole body language changed when Prowl left, and even after us being here for three joors, you never really relaxed. We don't take this kind of thing personally. In the end, it's all your choice who you end up with. Sometimes we just click with others. It's as if Primus sent them just for you."

Silverstreak stared at the mech for a while before he glanced down. Turbo smiled. "Come on, let's go, Glow. Goodbye Silverstreak."

"Good…bye."

* * *

Jazz slowly walked to the med bay. He paused when he spotted the other couple leaving the medical bay with smiles on their face. He bet they just enjoyed talking to Silverstreak. Makin' him laugh, and smile. They probably made him want ta stay with them more than he did Prowl and himself.

The two paused in front of Jazz. The yellow mech stepped forward with a smile. "You are the mech from earlier. This is just a guess, but you are Prowl's bonded, yes?"

"Yeah."

Glowfly glanced over to his bond. "I'm Glowfly." He smiled. "You and your bonded, are two very lucky mechs." He nodded before he grabbed his bonded's arm, and the two continued down the hall.

Jazz frowned. "What was that supposed to mean?" Jazz sighed before he walked into the medbay, and peaked over to Silverstreak. He sat on the edge of the berth, swinging his pedes back and forth. Jazz pushed a smile onto his face as skipped into medbay.

* * *

Prowl groaned as his comm. unit pinged at him. He hit the answer button and waited an astroklik before the image of Stelt appeared in front of him. "Prowl?"

Prowl frowned. "Yes?"

"I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Stelt, the young-"

"Silverstreak."

"That is his designation? Did he tell you?"

Prowl nodded. "He started speaking last night. His designation is Silverstreak, creation of Florn and Klorn of Praxus."

Stelt frowned. "I see. Anyways, I was calling to congratulate Jazz and you."

Prowl frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Ah well, Glowfly and Turbo called not too long ago. They are backing out of adopting… Silverstreak. They said that he seemed much more comfortable with you two, and expressed that he wanted to stay with you. I'm sending the proper files for you and Jazz to fill out, as soon as you send the files back, and they are authorized, he is yours."

Prowl stared at the screen with a blank look. This was… It just was… Not logical… Prowl's optics began to flicker before he felt himself plummeting from his chair to the floor, no doubt scaring the case worker out of his processor.

* * *

Ratchet frowned when he received the call about Prowl. He stood up from his desk with a frown, glanced over to a laughing Jazz and youngling, then stomped out of the medical bay.

Apparently the youngling's caseworker called the front desk panicking about Prowl fritzing out and shutting down. No doubt Prowl glitched. He was due for one about now.

Ratchet punched in his medical code to enter Prowl's office, and raised an optic ridge at the mech laying under the office chair. He snorted before slowly lifting the chair up. He nudged Prowl with his pede before smiling, pulling a small can of pink paint he confiscated earlier that orn, he slowly began painting the mech's face.

* * *

Jazz frowned when he spotted Ratchet leading a gurney through the medical bay. It wasn't really the gurney that had worried him, more the mech laying on top of it. Prowl's arm hung limply from the gurney as Ratchet led it over to Jazz. He met optics, and smiled. "He glitched."

Jazz sighed. "Ya know what caused it?"

"No clue. Probably the idiot he was talking to through the comm. unit. Help me shift him over to the berth."

Silverstreak watched with worried optics as Jazz and Ratchet moved Prowl from the gurney to the berth. "Is…he.. ok..ay?"

Jazz glanced back at Silverstreak, and gave him a huge smile. "He'll be fine! Prowler has just a-"

"Glit..ch?"

Jazz stared at the mechling with wide optics. "Yeah, how'd ya know?"

"Told me… last.. night."

"He's onlining." Ratchet announced.

Soon with a groan, Prowl's servo moved to his helm. "Ow."

"Ya okay?" Jazz asked.

"I'll be fine, Jazz."

"What made ya glitch now?"

Prowl gave Jazz a weary glance. "Are you still upset at me?"

"Ah…" Jazz looked away shyly. "Ah wasn't really mad at ya… more like aggravated."

Prowl sighed. "I see. Silverstreak's case worker called me. He's sending the files for us to fill out so we can officially become Silverstreak's surrogate creators. I couldn't really understand why Glowfly and Turbo backed out…"

Jazz stared at Prowl with wide optics. "Ya mean… AH'M GONNA BE A CREATOR!"

Prowl slowly sat up as Jazz started jumping up and down. He grabbed Silverstreak, and started jumping around with the youngling. "AH'M GONNA BE YOUR CREATOR!"

Ratchet growled. "Put the youngling down! Stop it!"

Prowl swung his legs over the side of the berth and smiled. He'd let Jazz have this moment, but he wasn't going to let him off completely. The two of them had a lot to prepare before Silverstreak was ready to move into their quarters.

Jazz held Silverstreak on his side, and looked at Prowl with a huge smile. "Ah love ya, Prowler."

Prowl's doorwings shot up in embarrassment.

"Are…n't… you gon..na… tell…him, you… love…him too?"

Prowl glanced away from Jazz and Silverstreak. Jazz only laughed. "Prowler's just shy. He'll say it later."

Silverstreak giggled.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It had been three decaorns since Jazz and Prowl turned in their files to adopt Silverstreak. Just about the amount of time for the files to be authorized. Jazz groaned as he moved yet another arms load of stuff from his and Prowl's shared office in their Private quarters. "Prowler!"

Prowl glanced up from his data pad that he was reading on the couch and smiled at Jazz. "Yes, Jazz?"

"Why aren't ya helpin'?"

"I remember asking you for help."

"Ah helped!"

"You moved one data pad."

"Ya haven't even done that!" Jazz yelled.

Prowl waved the data pad in his servos. "I have, and I am having an amazing time reading your old journal."

"Prowler!"

Prowl smiled. "Do not worry, I'll keep your crush on Blaster a secret."

"Prowl! Tha's private!"

"We are bonded, Jazz. Nothing is private."

Jazz glared at Prowl. "Fine. Mr. I'll-frag-optimus-one-orn."

Prowl's doorwings hitched. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, ah know. Ah see ya staring."

"I am not staring."

"Ya are too!"

"It is admiring! There is a difference."

Jazz snorted. "Yeah, just like ah 'admire' Arcee sometimes."

"I do not believe there are many that do not." Prowl smirked as he went back to reading his data pad.

Jazz dropped all the items in his servos at the indirect confession of Prowl's. "Ya…Ah… Ah can't believe this!"

Prowl glanced back up. "You better hurry. Ironhide is helping Ratchet bring Silverstreak's new berth, and if that office isn't cleaned out, we'll be stuck setting it up by ourselves."

Jazz sneered. "Checking out Optimus, and Arcee. What kinda bond do ah have?"

"A very loyal one. At least I haven't actually advanced on either of them. Although, there was a time Arcee pulled an advancement on me."

"Yeah, then ya opened ya're mouth."

"It did go something like that." Prowl smiled.

Jazz snorted. "If bots would just get ta know ya, ah bet they'd be surprised about how laid back ya are."

Prowl smiled. "It does take a while to get past the shell, doesn't it?"

"Just a few hundred vorns." Jazz mumbled as picked up all the items he dropped. "Ya really reading mah journal?"

"'Then he looked at me, and I swear he was feeling what I was putting out.'" Prowl recited.

Jazz snorted. "Ah can't believe ah wrote that."

"My favorite part is when Blaster asked you if you were thinking what he was."

Jazz groaned as walked into his and Prowl's room. "Don't go there, Prowler."

"I won't." Prowl smiled. "I was just saying."

"Ah'm gonna find your journal one day, Prowler!"

"I never kept one, Jazz." Prowl replied. "It was illogical to keep all my thoughts and weaknesses written down for anyone who was smart enough to find and read. Much like I am doing now."

Jazz peeked out of the room at Prowl. "Ya're an evil mech."

"Just making sure I can keep you in line at any future point in time. You might decide to start going after Blaster again, and let's admit it. I don't have _anything_ on Blaster."

Jazz smiled. "Yeah. Ya don't."

Prowl rolled his optics. "Why don't you just go bond with Blaster then?"

"Maybe ah should." Jazz walked out of the room with a thoughtful expression. "Ah don't think he'd been too keen on bein' in a trine with ya though."

Prowl shrugged. "Not many are."

Jazz smiled as walked over to Prowl and sat on his lap. "Anything else good in that old data pad?"

Prowl hummed. "Just a couple of vivid daydreams about what you wanted to do to Blaster, but other than that, not much."

Jazz laughed. "Ah was pretty naughty."

"You still are. Do not live in a delusion that the past you, and the present you are that much different."

Jazz snorted. "Ya don't know da half of it mech."

Prowl smiled. "I'm sure I don't, that's what I'm worried about."

Jazz wrapped his servos around Prowl, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Ya got nothin' to worry about besides my awfully good looks."

Prowl snorted. "Indeed." The two jumped when their quarter's door opened. Ratchet stood in the doorway with raised optic ridges.

"Fair enough, Ironhide. I owe you twenty credits."

Ironhide peeked in the room and smiled. "Told you to knock."

Jazz climbed off Prowl and smiled. "Ya two old mechs are just jealous that Prowl can get some whenever he wants."

"Too bad he never wants." Ratchet snorted as he walked into the living area. "I feel for ya, Jazz. If ya ever need me to blow the dus-"

Prowl cleared his throat. Ratchet only snorted. "Sparkling."

Jazz laughed. "Ya two got the berth?"

"You got the credits?" Ironhide asked.

Prowl rolled his optics. "It goes back here, Ironhide."

Ratchet nodded for Ironhide to grab the berth from the hall. Ironhide nodded, walking out of the unit, returning with a crate. "One youngling berth."

Prowl led the two into the now almost empty office. Jazz's desk still sat against the wall. "Jazz, please move your desk."

"Can't."

Prowl turned to Jazz with a frown. "Excuse me?"

"Ah can't. It's kinda… welded there."

Prowl stared at Jazz with a blank expression as Ironhide snorted. Prowl sighed. "Fine. It can be Silverstreak's desk from now on. We'll just have to get you a new one. I'm not even going to ask _why_ your desk is welded there."

Jazz smiled. "Good. Ya'll never believe me if ah told ya anyways."

* * *

The four mechs sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by metal pieces and parts. Prowl slowly stood up, and rubbed his temples. "How can putting together a youngling berth be so difficult?"

Ironhide's look of concentration slowly turned to one of horror. "Slag! I put the leg on the wrong side!"

Jazz fell back and sprawled himself over the floor. "Not again!"

Ratchet slowly stood up. "I have to go. Medical bay is waiting. I'll send Wheeljack to he-"

"No!" The three other mechs yelled in horror.

Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "Believe it or not, Wheeljack does not cause everything he touches to explode. Only his experiments. He's an engineer. If he can't put this slagging thing together, nobody can."

Prowl sighed. "Fine. Please send him here."

Ratchet nodded. "I will." He walked out of the room, leaving Ironhide, Jazz, and Prowl alone.

Ironhide sighed. "How long have we been working on this thing?"

"Four joors." Prowl sighed.

Jazz only groaned. "Ah never wanna put a berth together again!"

Ironhide snorted. "On a side note, I hear ya finally accepted Prime's offer." Ironhide smirked over to Prowl.

Jazz slowly sat up with a frown. "What offer?"

Ironhide raised an optic ridge. "You of all mechs didn't know? Ha! Optimus has been continuously asking Prowl to be his second in command for about a half a stellar cycle now."

"Wha?" Jazz glared over at Prowl. "Ya didn't tell me about that!"

"I had no plans to accept, Jazz."

"Well, ya should!"

"And I did. Yesterday. I was going to tell you over energon later on." Prowl shook his helm.

Ironhide smirked. "Well, I suppose I owe you an apology."

"No." Prowl sighed. "It's fine."

Jazz smiled. "So, ya're gonna be the second in command of the Autobot army! Congrats, Prowler!"

Prowl smiled. "Thank you, Jazz."

"So, who's gonna take over tactics?" Jazz asked.

"I will still be in charge of tactics." Prowl nodded.

"So, ya're gonna be doin' both jobs? That's a lot of work, Prowler." Jazz frowned.

Ironhide snorted. "Like Prowl can't handle it."

"Ah didn't say he couldn't handle it! Ah'm just sayin'…"

Prowl smiled. "Do not worry, Jazz. It will be fine."

"I'm here!"

Prowl turned to the door and nodded at the white, red and green mech. "Wheeljack, hello."

"I heard you had issues with a berth." Wheeljack's finnials flashed with amusement.

Prowl nodded. "Only a little."

Wheeljack's optics lit up as he walked in and examined the parts. "Oh, this will be easy! Just leave it to me!" Wheeljack crouched down, and quickly began grabbing parts, welding them into place.

Prowl shook his helm. "I have to go check on the files for Silverstreak. Jazz, stay here and help Wheeljack if he needs it."

Jazz nodded. "Alright!"

* * *

It had only taken Wheeljack one joor to succeed in what it took four mechs four joors to fail at. The berth was sitting in it's new place against the wall, and Wheeljack smiled at his handy work. "I am so good."

"Stop. Ya're just rubbing it in." Jazz pouted.

Wheeljack laughed. "hey, where'd Hide go?"

"Left 'bout half a joor ago. Said O.P called him." Jazz threw himself onto the living room couch.

Wheeljack stepped out of the youngling's room. "Oh. Too bad. I wanted him to test a new cannon."

Jazz smiled. "Well, Hide is definitely the mech for that."

Wheeljack smiled. "Yep! Well, I better go. See you around, Jazz."

"Yeah, thanks, Jackie!"

Wheeljack smiled. "Sure thing!" Wheeljack opened the door only to Jump. "Holy f- Prowl, you scared me! OH! Is this the youngling?"

Jazz jumped up and glanced over Wheeljack's shoulder. Prowl stood in the doorway, Silverstreak held on his hip. "Yes, this is Silverstreak, Wheeljack. Silverstreak, this is Wheeljack."

"Hi." Silverstreak gave Wheeljack a small wave.

"Hello. I was just leaving, so-"

"You are already finished with the berth?"

"Yep!"

Prowl frowned. "That was quick."

Jazz smiled. "Ah don't know why we didn' call Wheeljack in da first place."

"We thought he was going to blow up our home." Prowl deadpanned. "Have a nice evening, Wheeljack."

Wheeljack smiled. "Sure, Prowl."

Prowl stepped into the room, and passed Silverstreak to Jazz. "He's all ours."

Jazz smiled. "Welcome home!"

Silverstreak squirmed in Jazz's arms, signaling he wanted down. Jazz put him on the ground and allowed him take in his surroundings. Prowl pointed to the back room. "That is your room. Jazz's and mine is right over there." He pointed behind the couch. "The wash racks are right across from us."

Silverstreak nodded, slowly walking around the small military quarters. "My…room?" He stopped in front of Prowl and Jazz's previous office.

"Yep!" Jazz smiled. "All yours! Don't know what ya expected, but that place is all yours! Ya do whateva ya want with it!"

"To an extent." Prowl added. "We do ask that you ask permission before doing anything to it. You can put whatever you want in there, but if you plan on putting anything on the walls, please allow Jazz or I to help."

Silverstreak nodded. "Will…you…call me… Blue…now?"

Jazz glanced over to Prowl with a confused look. Prowl simply sighed. "Do you still wish to change your name?"

"Yes."

"May I ask why?"

Silverstreak shrugged. "I … don't…li..ke sil…ver."

Prowl frowned. "Perhaps we can make a compromise. You can change Silver to Blue, but we keep streak."

Jazz elbowed Prowl. "He ain't got no blue on him!"

Prowl snorted. "You do not like Jazz music." Prowl turned back to Silverstreak. "Is that a deal?"

Silverstreak smiled. "Yes!"

Prowl nodded. "Alright. Before that, Jazz and I will have to take you into the city. We need to find a speech therapist, and a place that can repaint your legs and wings."

Jazz glanced over to Prowl. "When do ya plan ta do that?"

"Tomorrow." Prowl answered. "I am off duty until I am officially announced as SIC. I plan to use that time to complete everything else on the list of things we have to do."

"What about me!"

Prowl glanced up at Jazz with a frown. "What about you?"

Silverstreak giggled as Jazz's face fell. Prowl smiled. "That was rude. I apologize. I have pulled some favors in, and you are off duty for the next couple of orns."

Jazz immediately perked up. "Really? So ah don't gotta do any work?"

"No, you do not."

 


	5. Chapter 5

Prowl slid a cube of energon over to Jazz, and gently let a lower grade cube in front of Silverstreak before he sat down at the small table. He silently picked up the data pad he was reading before, and turned it on.

"Prowler, no work at da table!"

"No work, just play." Prowl smiled.

Jazz shook his helm. "No invading privacy at the table!"

Prowl sat the data pad down. "Fine." He turned to Silverstreak and smiled. "How do you like it here?"

"It's…nice." Silverstreak answered with a smile. "Small… and.. co..zy."

Prowl nodded. "I enjoy it myself."

Jazz snorted. "Ah like the recreation room better!"

"You just like it there because it's noisy." Prowl answered.

Jazz shrugged. "Ah like da background noise."

"It irritates me." Prowl sighed. "After you finish energizing you can get washed up, and then get some rest. Tomorrow be a long orn, I promise that."

Jazz snorted. "Don't ya worry, he breaks promises all da time."

* * *

Jazz hummed as he helped Silverstreak into his berth. "Good night, Silverstreak. Oh, 'fore ah go; ya want any thermal blankets or stuff?"

"Blan…ket."

Jazz smiled. "Kay, ah'll be right back."

Silverstreak watched Jazz leave. As soon as the white mech was out of his sight, he frowned. It was weird being in a new house so different from his old one. Prowl reminded him of his sire, a lot. But he didn't really act like him. Silverstreak smiled. He loved Jazz. Jazz was so much fun, and so nice!

"Ah'm back!" With a snap the blanket slowly fell over Silverstreak's frame.

Silverstreak smiled. "So…ft."

Jazz laughed. "Prowler has a thing about his blankets being soft. ah don't really use the thermal blankets, but ah hear Praxians are pretty keen on having 'em."

Silverstreak smiled. "Good…night."

"Night, little mech!" Jazz walked out of the room, flipping the light off on his way out.

* * *

Prowl glanced up from Jazz's old journal as Jazz skipped out of Silverstreak's room. He readjusted himself on the couch, and gazed into Silverstreak's dark room. "You enjoyed that a bit too much."

"Nah! Ah enjoyed that just the right amount."

Prowl smiled. "I'm sure." He turned back to the data pad.

Jazz sat down next to Prowl, and snuggled onto his side. "Where ya at?"

"I believe I am at the part where you first met me."

Jazz frowned. "Well! No more for you!"

"It is too late. I've already read the part about how much you hated me." Prowl gave a side glance to Jazz. "Very colorful language, by the way."

Jazz sighed. "Ah didn't mean any of it… well, ah did, but ah don't anymore." Jazz smiled up at Prowl.

Prowl glanced over to Jazz. "It is fine, when I first met you, I thought you were a force to be quelled. I now know it is easier to just let you wear yourself out."

"Ouch, Prowl." Jazz snorted. "So, did Ratchet tell you to get the speech therapist?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes. He said Silverstreak's voice box is suffering from under usage. He needs to start using it more. As he does, it should get easier for him to talk."

Jazz nodded. "Good. It's painful ta watch him talk like dat. It kinda makes meh wonder why he wasn't allowed to."

Prowl glanced over to Jazz. "He has a glitch."

"Wha?"

"In Praxus high caste younglings with defects and glitches are not socially acceptable. It could ruin a family to have a youngling like that." Prowl sighed. "Families that do have one hide the younglings away. I suspect that is what happened with Silverstreak. We should encourage him to speak, and try not to reinforce ideas that he is less of a bot because of his glitch, whatever it may be."

Jazz frowned. "Prowl, you got a glitch too."

Prowl glanced over to Jazz with a frown. "I do."

"Ya… Were ya treated like that?"

Prowl frowned. "Jazz, I-"

"Were ya treated like ya were a disgrace?" Jazz demanded. "Is that why ya don't like people knowin' 'bout ya glitch?"

"I do not like bots knowing about my glitch because they tend to use it against me, Jazz."

"Ya didn't answer mah question."

"Yes. I was treated like that. I was hidden from public view, and as a consequence of that, I do not have very good social skills."

Jazz slowly pushed himself away from Prowl. "Is that why ah never met ya're creators?"

"My creators disowned me when I left Praxus. As far as they are concerned, they do not have a creation."

"Ya said there were two surviving high caste families from Praxus, right?"

Prowl frowned. "Jazz…"

"One of 'em were ya creators, right?" Jazz smiled. "We can go meet 'em an-"

"Jazz." Prowl shook his helm. "One family was indeed my creators, but I will not go see them. That is final." Prowl sighed. "I am going to recharge. Good night."

Jazz watched Prowl walk to their room. He huffed as he un-subspaced a data pad, and quickly started messing around on it. He started scrolling down a long list and finally paused.

* * *

Prowl sighed as he sat at the table in their quarters, half empty energon cube in front of him. He hated onlining early. It was more of Jazz's thing. Which was strange, because Jazz was still in recharge on their berth. Prowl heard the sound of small pedes walking out of a room, and turned to face the youngling. "Good orn." He greeted.

"Good… orn."

Prowl smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Good."

"Do you want any energon before we start getting ready to go?"

"Yes… Ple..ase."

Prowl nodded standing up. "Please sit." He walked over to a cabinet, and grabbed a small cube. He placed it in front of Silverstreak, and nodded. "Refuel. You'll need it."

Silverstreak nodded, popping the top of the cube off, and slowly started draining the cube.

"We'll be leaving as soon as Jazz is up and ready."

"Ah'm up." Jazz groaned lazily, walking out of his and Prowl's room, data pad in servo. "Ah'm up."

Prowl snorted. "We can see that, Jazz."

"Shh." Jazz motioned. "Ah'm up."

Silverstreak giggled as Jazz walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a cube of energon. "Where to today, Prowler."

"I'm taking Silverstreak to get his legs and doorwings painted."

"Wha' 'bout me?"

"You are going to cancel whatever evil plot you are planning." Prowl drained his cube. "I don't like the look on your face."

"Wha' look?"

Prowl gave Jazz a fond smile. "I love when you act like you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Ah love when ya mind ya own business." Jazz grumbled, pushing past Prowl, and sitting down at the table. "How ya feelin' today, Silverstreak?"

"Good."

"Good." Jazz answered.

"How…are you?"

Jazz smiled. "I am great."

Prowl rolled his optics as he took the empty cube the recycling container. "I'm serious, Jazz cancel whatever plan you have going on."

"It would be silly of me to cancel such excellent plans."

Prowl turned back to Jazz. "Fine. You can stay here today."

"Prowler!" Jazz whined.

Prowl shook his helm. "No."

Jazz made a pouty face then crossed his arms. "Fine."

Prowl shook his helm. "I don't believe you, but fine."

Jazz smiled over at Silverstreak before taking a gulp of his energon. "We're gonna have fun today."

* * *

Jazz carried Silverstreak as Prowl lead them through the streets. "Hey, ya just passed Pretty protoform!"

"We are not going to Pretty Protoform." Prowl continued down the street.

"Why not?"

"Because we are going to my favorite spot. They are gentle on the doorwings."

Jazz frowned. "Never been to your spot before…"

"Then you will enjoy it." Prowl turned down a small back street.

"Ya aren't settin' us up ta be mugged, are ya?"

Prowl rolled his optics. "No, Jazz." Prowl stopped in front of a small shop.

"Tuner's Paint. Well, tha's a simple name." Jazz frowned.

"What they lack in creativity, they make up for quality." Prowl opened the door, allowing Jazz to walk in first. Jazz gave Prowl a worried glance before he walked into the small shop. Prowl silently followed.

A minibot was working in the back of the shop, painting a femme with bright pink paint. "If ya ain't got an appointment leave!"

Jazz gave Prowl a concerned look. Prowl only smiled. "We have one."

The minibot laughed. "I wouldn't doubt it, Prowl!"

"I'm sure you wouldn't."

"Just wait over there! There's only one of me!" The minibot yelled.

Prowl nodded. "Of course." He motioned for Jazz to sit down at the small set of chairs to the side.

Jazz reluctantly sat down. "You come here often?"

Prowl nodded. "I wouldn't let anybody else paint me. It took a while to find this shop."

Jazz looked down at Silverstreak worriedly. "Okay… Ah guess."

"And don't ya mess up that paint, Sweetspark! If ya do ah might have ta hunt ya down!"

The newly painted femme stopped at the door and turned around. "Ya awful, ya know that! And stop makin' fun of mah accent!"

"Nah, it ain't never gonna stop!"

The femme glared at the minibot. "Frag you, Tuner."

"You'll have to wait in line for that." The mini bot winked.

The femme groaned leaving the shop. Tuner turned to Prowl. "Oh, you brought friends?"

Prowl stood up. "This is my bonded, Jazz, and my new youngling Silverstreak. I need you to match the gray he has now, and paint his doorwings and legs. Give him repaint on the other parts as well."

Tuner stared at Prowl for a moment. "Ya have a bonded?"

"Yes." Prowl nodded.

"Frag. If you can get one I guess there's hope for me too."

Jazz snorted. Prowl frowned. Silverstreak giggled. Prowl plucked Silverstreak from Jazz's servos and passed him to Tuner. "Just paint the youngling."

"Ah like 'im, Prowler."

Tuner snorted. "Ah like meh, too."

Jazz frowned at the mech's newly gained accent. "Ya gonna make funna me too now?"

"Yes." Tuner smiled. "That's wha ah do."

Prowl rolled his optics. "How long for you to match the color, and do the painting?"

"Give me half a joor for the color, and about two joors for the painting, if you want precision, which I know you do, three joors. You want the quality match of the paint too?"

Prowl thought for a moment. "Use my quality grade."

"Alright. That shaves half a joor off.. It'll take about three joors."

Jazz frowned. "What? Three joors? Don't ya have that paint machine thingy!"

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Jazz, Tuner does all his painting by servo. He doesn't use machines."

Jazz frowned. "What?"

Tuner snorted. "Real classy bond ya got, Prowl. I'm gonna go get started, make yourselves at home."

* * *

Jazz laid over the waiting room chairs sprawled over Prowl. "Ah spy with mah little visor, something beautiful."

"Yourself." Prowl answered.

"No! Ah can't see mahself!"

"The chair."

"Nope!"

"The wonderful architecture?"

"No! Ya know! Ya're no good at this game!"

"Jazz, I am just trying to make it last so you won't be bored again in ten breems."

Jazz sat up with a frown. "Well, ah'm bored."

"We still have two joors, you better find something to not be bored with." Prowl rolled his optics.

* * *

Prowl glared at Jazz as he sat upside down on the chair. "Jazz, please sit correctly."

"Can't."

"And why not?"

"Ah'm bored. Gotta get my processor runnin'."

Prowl groaned.

* * *

"Jazz! Get off the ceiling!" Prowl growled in a hushed voice as he stood up.

Jazz smirked. He had activated his magnetizers in his pedes, and was currently hanging from the ceiling. "No."

Prowl's doorwings shot up to the distinct 'V' that signaled his annoyance. "If you don't get down from there you kiss goodbye to any future fraggings you may get."

Jazz smiled. "No."

"Jazz, I will pull out my blaster, and I will shoot you down if I have to!"

Jazz chuckled. "No."

Prowl took a deep intake. "Fine. Stand up there." He sat down on his chair, and pulled out a data pad. "'Blaster looked like a god from the way his hip co-'"

"Prowler!" Jazz immediately fell from the ceiling landing on his pedes. "Ya can't just read that out loud!"

"You cannot simply stand on the ceiling in public."

"That's private!"

"That is inappropriate!"

"YER INAPPROPRIATE!" Jazz yelled.

Prowl glared at Jazz. "I ca-"

"We're done!" Tuner snorted as he stood beside Silverstreak. "You two sure can argue."

Prowl sent one last glare to Jazz before he turned to Silverstreak. His helm fell to the side when he noticed the red band around Silverstreak's waist. "That is new."

"The youngling chose the color himself."

Prowl nodded. "It looks good. A nice contrast to the gray."

Tuner snorted. "Sure. Which one of you are paying?"

Prowl smirked. "Jazz will."

"Wha? Ah didn't bring mah ID! Ya shoulda to-"

"I guess I'll be paying." Prowl walked over to the register.

Tuner snorted. "Some bonded ya got."

"He becomes difficult when he gets bored." Prowl answered passing his ID to Tuner.

"Does he now? I couldn't notice."

"You should consider investing in a youngling play area."

Tuner snorted. "For your overgrown youngling. I don't think so."

* * *

Jazz smiled at Silverstreak as Prowl paid for the paint job. "Wow, look at ya!"

"Where…next?"

Jazz smiled. "Well, ah got a surprise for Prowler. He don't know 'bout it yet, but we're gonna go to a nice café!"

"What…for?"

"Meetin' some bots."

"Are you ready, Jazz?" Prowl walked up to the two.

"Yep! What do ya say we go by a Café?" Jazz smiled. "Ah could use an energon shot!"

"If you hadn't of been so restless, you wouldn't need one."

"Aw! Come on, Prowler! Please!"

Prowl sighed. "Fine. Any specific one in processor?"

"Yep!" Jazz smiled.

"Which one?"

"Revv's!"

Prowl frowned. "That one is expensive, Jazz."

Jazz turned to Silverstreak. "Tell him ya want Revv's!"

"Re…vv's"

Prowl rolled his optics. "I did not say no, Jazz."

"Yeah!" Jazz jumped up in the air. "Ah'm gonna go ta Revv's!"

* * *

Prowl, Jazz, and Silverstreak stood in the waiting area for the busy café. A small waitress quickly grabbed two menus. "Two and a youngling?"

"Four and a younglin'!" Jazz corrected. "We're meetin' some bots."

Prowl frowned. "Jazz, we a-"

"Yes, we are!" Jazz smiled to the waitress. "They'll come and ask for Jazz."

The femme nodded. "Alright." She grabbed two more menus. "Follow me, please."

The waitress sat the three in a booth, and passed around the menu. "I'll wait for the others in your group to get here before I take orders."

Prowl nodded. "That is fine." The waitress walked away, and Prowl's optics locked onto Jazz. "Who are we meeting, Jazz."

"Don' worry 'bout it."

"Jazz, I did not agree to this. I told you to cancel whatever you were planning!"

"And ah said fine!"

"But you didn't."

"Nope. Ah lied." Jazz smiled. "Look! They're here!"

Prowl turned to the front of the building and frowned. "Jazz."

Two praxians stood by a waitress talking. A Black and white one, looking very similar to Prowl, and a Red and yellow one.

Prowl glared at Jazz. "This is unacceptable, Jazz."

Jazz stood up. "O'er here!"

Silverstreak looked between the two in confusion. "Wh…at…is…go..ing on?"

Prowl turned to Silverstreak with a frown. "I apologize for this, Silverstreak. Jazz did a bad thing."

"Not bad!" Jazz smiled. "Good."

The two praxians reached the table with a nod. "Prowl." The black and white mech nodded.

Prowl frowned. "Axis. Thrin."

The red and yellow mech nodded.

Jazz smiled. "Go on, sit down!" The two slid into the booth awkwardly next to Prowl. "This right 'ere is Silverstreak! Prowler and I adopted him!"

"They let Prowl adopt a youngling?" Axis snorted.

Jazz frowned. Thrin glanced over to Axis, and elbowed his side. "Not here."

Axis huffed. "I am Axis, Silverstreak. Prowl's Sire. This is my bonded Thrin."

Silverstreak nodded. "Silver…streak…"

Thrin smiled. "No need to be shy, youngling."

"Not…shy."

Axis frowned. "He can't speak properly yet?"

Prowl turned to Axis. "He cannot speak because he hasn't used his vocal processor in vorns. That would be because you and your _kind_ kept him from using it."

Axis raised an optic ridge. "My kind?" Axis snorted. "You mean your kind as well? Last time I checked you were equally as high caste as I was."

Jazz glanced between to the two nervously. "Ah think A-"

"Shut up, Jazz." Prowl hissed turning back to Axis. "I was disowned, remember?"

"You should not have left Praxus, that was your fault."

"And if I remained in Praxus, where would I be now?" Prow growled. "Offline under a pile of rubble?"

"Prowl!" Thrin yelled. "Can we please just have a nice refuel without the two of you fighting?"

Prowl stared at his carrier. The table went silent as Prowl turned away from the two. "I apologize."

Thrin sighed. "Good. It has been awhile since I've seen you. What are you doing now?"

Jazz frowned at the way the mech simply ignored everything that had just happened. "Prowl's fixin' ta be the Prime's second in command."

Prowl sighed as Axis turned to him. "What did that mech just say?"

"That mech is Jazz, my bonded."

Axis growled. "What did Jazz just say?"

"I am to become Optimus Prime's Second in command."

Thrin frowned. "We did not know you joined the military."

"I started as a junior tactician. I am currently head of tactical command. I will keep that position and gain the Second in Command position as well."

"Hello!" The waitress walked up to the table. "What can I get for you all?"

Jazz smiled. "Ah don't know about those two but we need a cube of low grade. What do you want in it, Silverstreak?"

"Cop…per."

"With copper! Two cubes of mid grade with Silver and iron!"

The waitress nodded. "Okay then, what else?"

"Make that four cubes of Mid grade with Silver and Iron."

The femme nodded. "Okay!" The femme walked away.

Thrin smiled. "It's seems that you've done well for yourself, Prowl."

Prowl nodded. "Thank you."

"Prime knows ya glitch, right? I wouldn't trust a bot that just falls over every time he gets confused." Axis snorted.

Jazz frowned as Prowl grinded his denta. "Yes, he is aware."

Jazz sighed. "Ah think ya need ta understand somethin', Axis."

Axis raised an optic ridge. "And what is that?"

"Prowl's glitch doesn't make 'im any less of a mech. If anythin' it makes his one pit of mech."

"Really? How many times has glitched out, and you have to take care of it, or clean up the mess he's made?"

Jazz glared at the mech. "I'd be happy to clean up any mess Prowl makes. And he doesn't even need a glitch ta make a mess of things!"

"Jazz!" Prowl glared.

"Ya don't!"

Prowl snorted as he shook his helm. Axis frowned. "You didn't answer the question. How many times. I know of 254 that just I had to clean up."

Silverstreak frowned, scooting closer to Jazz. "Not… his..fault."

"And what is your glitch?" Axis asked.

Prowl growled. "Leave him out of this."

Thrin frowned. "Axis, Prowl, out here, now!" Thrin stood up pointing to the door. "We're going to talk."

Axis grunted as he slid out of the booth. When Prowl made no effort to move Axis raised an optic ridge. "Did you hear your creator, or are you audials glitching too?"

Jazz sent Prowl a worried glance. Prowl sighed before he slid out of the booth, and stood up. Jazz watched as Prowl followed his creators out of the building. "Did ya creators treat ya like that?"

Silverstreak glanced up to Jazz. "No… Carrier was…nice, but…Sire, he did..n't like…me talking…"

"Do ya like ta talk?"

"I love.. talking." Silverstreak smiled. "It's…fun... and…fills the…silence."

"Ah'm glad ya creators didn't treat ya like that. Ah didn't really know Prowler had it that bad."

Silverstreak frowned. "Axis… was mean."

"Yeah, and rude." Jazz smiled. "This is mah first time meetin' em. Ah thought ah was lucky they were stayin' in Iacon, but guess not."

Prowl slowly walked back to the table and slid into the booth. "I apologize, Jazz."

"Where's ya creators?"

"Thrin is still lecturing Axis."

Jazz nodded. "Ah see. Ah'm sorry, Prowl. Ah didn't think it'd be like this."

"I told you, Jazz. I did not want to meet them. You should have listened to me."

"Ah know."

Thrin slid into the booth next to Prowl. "I'll be sitting next to you now." Axis slid in next to Thrin.

Axis wasn't even trying to hide the scowl on his face. "So, Jazz, what do you do?"

"Ah'm head of Special operations."

Thrin frowned. "Really? How did you and Prowl meet?"

"We worked together a few times."

"Was it love at first sight?"

"Nope, ah hated him."

Axis snorted. Thrin elbowed him. "Really?"

"Yup. Ah know he wasn't so fond of meh either." Jazz smiled.

Silverstreak perked up. "You…didn't like…each other?"

"No." Prowl answered.

"you're…happy now…though?"

Prowl nodded. "Very."

Jazz snorted. "Prowler still makes meh upset."

"If you weren't so emotional, that would not be an issue."

"If ya weren't so logical it wouldn't be an issue!"

"If you were not so demanding and needy it would not be an issue."

"Ah'm not needy!"

"You just spent half a joor on the ceiling at Tuner's because you were bored. I spent a joor playing I spy with you."

Jazz sneered. "That's not needy!"

Prowl rolled his optics. "Whatever you say."

Thrin glanced over to Axis, and giggled. "You two are funny together."

Prowl jumped, forgetting the two were there. "I apologize."

"You do not have to." Thrin smiled.

"But I will anyways." Prowl replied.

Axis huffed as the waitress came back with the energon. "Alright. Sorry for the wait."

"Not at all." Prowl replied to her.

Axis huffed. "It was a ridiculous amount of time to wait."

Prowl shook his helm. "It was fine."

The waitress nodded. "Four mid grades with Iron and Silver, and a low grade with Copper." The femme slid all the cubes onto the table. "Enjoy!"

"We will!" Jazz smiled. "Thank ya!"

"You are very welcome." The femme smiled. Walking away.

"I…think…she likes…you, Jazz." Silverstreak smiled.

Jazz raised an optic ridge. "Ya think? Maybe ah should try an whoo her." Jazz grabbed a cube and went to take a sip.

"Hopefully it will be more graceful than your attempts to 'whoo' Blaster." Prowl replied.

Jazz spit his energon out. "P-Prowler!"

Prowl glanced up with a smirk. "What?"

"Ya… Ah can't believe ya!"

Prowl smiled. "I apologize."

Jazz's visor dimmed. "Ah'm watchin' ya, mech."

"Perhaps I should be the one watching you."

"Are you two done hopelessly flirting or do I have purge my tanks." Axis groaned.

A couple of rude things ran through Prowl's processor before he shook his helm. "I apologize."

"Ya been apologizing an awful lot, Prowler." Jazz pointed out.

"He only apologizes when he's holding back a rude comment." Axis snorted.

Jazz smiled. "Really? Why don't ya just let it all out?"

"I am good." Prowl answered.

Axis drained his cube quickly. "Do you think you could refuel a little quicker, Thrin?"

"The quicker I refuel, the sooner I will have to leave." Thrin smiled as he sipped his energon. "So, Prowl, How is it working under the Prime?"

"Fine."

"You do not have anything to say about him."

"Are you asking what he is like a mech, or a leader."

"Both." Thrin smiled.

"He is an amazing leader. I look up to him in that aspect. He clearly looks upon situations and judge them, accounting for others' emotions. Something I cannot do. As a mech he is equally as astounding. Kind, generous, and caring. Elita-One is indeed a lucky femme."

"Ah see how it is." Jazz mumbled.

Thrin nodded. "I see. Is that why he allowed Praxus to be destroyed, or was that your mistake?"

The table went silent, all helms snapped to the mech who had been nothing but polite since he arrived. Prowl sighed. "That was nobody's fault. We did not see it coming. Nobody did. Praxus was neutral."

Thrin turned to Prowl with a scowl. "Really? There were Decepticon supporter riots almost every other orn. It is no secret that Praxus was just trying to satisfy them by not choosing the Autobots."

"If they had just chose the Autobots' side perhaps we could have stationed Soldiers there to help quell the riots, and stop the bombing, but Praxus did not choose a side did they?"

Thrin nodded. "No, we did not. I suppose that is our fault."

Prowl didn't answer. Axis snorted. "He really does think its Praxus's own fault."

Prowl gritted his denta. Thrin nodded. "You didn't even bother checking on us after the bombing I suppose we just wronged you so much."

"I had a list of the survivors. I knew you were fine."

Thrin drained the rest of his cube. "Whatever we did wrong to you does not deserve this type of disrespect."

"Disrespect?" Prowl glared over to Thrin. "Disrespect was disowning me. Disrespect was you locking me away. Disrespect was causing so many more problems for me than just the slagging glitch. Disrespect was coming here, and doing nothing but slagging my bonded and new youngling. Disrespect was coming here and having the audacity to act like we are still a family unit!"

Jazz frowned. They were slagging him? Fragging Praxians being so polite in their slaggings!

Axis stood up, helping Thrin out of the booth. "I told you coming here was a bad idea."

Thrin shook his helm. "I should have listened. We will pick up our end of the check."

"Ah wasn't gonna pay for it!" Jazz pouted.

Prowl rolled his optics. Axis shook his helm as he and Thrin walked away.

"They were slaggin' meh?"

Prowl sighed. "Jazz, I told you."

"Ah know. Ah just… Ah didn't think they were that bad."

"You should have listened to me.

"Ah know!"

"Yes, they were slagging you." Prowl finally answered.

Jazz snorted. "Ya should've told meh! I would have slagged 'em back! I thought Thrin was pretty nice until he blamed you for Praxus."

"Thrin is the worst out of both of them."

Silverstreak glanced between the two as he sipped his energon. He didn't like them either.

 


End file.
